Sometimes You Do
by ReluctantSlashFan
Summary: Derek saves Stiles from imminent death... again. Everything goes downhill from there.
1. Prologue

Contrary to popular belief, Stiles could, in fact, sit quietly for more than five seconds. It usually resulted in fidgeting and rapid-fire tapping, but he has been known to keep his mouth shut. Case in point, at that moment, as he hid behind a tree, wishing that he had listened to everyone's protests and not volunteered to be bait, holding his breath so the _thing_ didn't hear him.

He wasn't sure what it was, but Lydia and the Argents had assured him that it could be killed, and he took their word for it, now just waiting for Isaac and Scott to get their werewolf asses _here_ so he didn't end up the _thing's _next meal. He really didn't want to be a meal to anything because, truth be told, he probably didn't taste very well. He probably tasted like medication and too much caffeine, with just a dash of certifiably crazy and sleeplessness. Add anxiety and nervous energy and he'd be about as tasty as tuna fish. And Stiles really, really did not like tuna fish. In fact, he didn't understand how anyone could like tuna fish, but really that was so not the time to think about that so he let it go.

He sucked in a deep breath, trying to be as quiet as possible, and poked his head around the tree, only to shout in surprise (and definitely some mind numbing terror) when he found the_ thing_ staring right back at him. Stiles had enough time to note that it had orange eyes before he jolted backwards, hitting the ground hard, biting his tongue and tasting blood.

He scrambled backwards, sticks and pine needles jabbing into his palms. He tried not to think about the fact that his palms were now useless to him, stifling a hysterical laugh, crying out again as the _thing_ lunged for him, only for its attack to be blocked by a dark blur.

He watched in fascination as the _thing's_ throat was ripped out, his heart hammering against his chest, his ragged breathing rattling in his ears. Finally, the blur straightened up, turning to face Stiles, his ice, cold, blue eyes shifting back to their original pale green-ish color.

He fixed Stiles with a pointed look and asked, "Were you trying to get yourself killed?"

"I missed you, too," Stiles retorted when he found his voice. Derek merely rolled his eyes, offering Stiles a hand up. The younger boy took it, allowing himself to get hauled to his feet, just as Isaac, Scott, and Allison skidded around the corner, the former two wolfed out while the latter held a crossbow tightly in her hands.

"Hey guys, look who's back," Stiles said gesturing to Derek hovering behind him. "Oh, and the thing is dead."

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**I sorta wanted to do my take on that 'I missed you' thing that's been roaming around Tumblr. Not quite sure if I'll continue this, but until I figure it out I hope you guys/gals liked this.**

**So, thanks for reading, drop me a comment if you want, and I don't own 'em.**

**See ya!**


	2. Chapter One

**Hey, so I decided to keep this going. I think I have a decent storyline, so that's a plus, plus I like you guys and the few who asked for more deserve more for taking the time to review. So, thanks to everyone who read/reviewed/favorite/alerted the first chapter. I hope you enjoy this and I'll see you in the next.**

**Leave me a comment if you can.**

**P.S. When I update the next chapter, I'll be changing the title to the story's actual title (Sometimes You Do) but I'll keep it the same for this chapter so you guys know which story it is for.**

**See ya!**

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Derek was an observer. When she was alive, Laura called him paranoid and obsessive, but Derek couldn't help it. He had to be aware of what was going on, had to be in control, especially after Kate, and, after Jen… Julia, he had become ten times more hyperaware.

He sat next to Stiles, noting the teen's hands clenched tightly around his steering wheel. He was more jittery than usual, reeking of caffeine and Adderall, ugly, dark smudges under his eyes with shots of red making the light, caramel brown stand out. There was also something else, something Derek couldn't quite pinpoint, burrowed just beneath the surface of Stiles' emotions; an awful, cold darkness that the former Alpha had sensed on both Scott and Allison, too.

"Where's Cora?" Stiles asked suddenly, his voice breaking the tense silence in the jeep.

"South America," Derek responded glancing out the window. "We parted ways. She said she needed to travel and I…" Why exactly did Derek return to Beacon Hills? There wasn't anything really here for him; not anymore at least. Unless he counted Peter and that was something he definitely did not intend to do. Him and...

He glanced over at Stiles, curiously asking, "Was that the only thing that attacked since I've left?"

Stiles chuckled darkly, almost humorlessly, and said, "Not even close." The jeep fell silent again, Stiles clearly not about to explain to Derek what he meant, leaving the beta wanting to ask for more answers, wondering why no one had bothered to call him. "So," Stiles broke the silence again, glancing over at Derek, "how was the trip? Did you see the biggest ball of yarn? Maybe the second biggest if you, you know, couldn't find the biggest. Which, I guess, would be kinda hard _not_ to do seeing as it's, you know, big."

Derek would be lying if he said he didn't miss Stiles' aimless chatter, but for some reason it felt off this time. Almost as if Stiles were forcing himself to make idle chitchat. Something had obviously changed in the few months Derek had been gone, and the former Alpha didn't like it one bit.

"Are you okay?" It was a harmless question. Sure, Derek didn't exactly spend his time inquiring about others' feelings, but the trip with Cora helped him a lot, and after having longwinded talks with his sister about everything, slowly patching up six years worth of anger and self-loathing (mostly on Derek's part), he was ever so slowly reverting back to the way he used to be before Kate and _way_ before Paige's death.

"Not exactly something I ever thought I would hear you ask me," Stiles replied giving Derek a quick look. "Are _you_ okay? Did you eat a bad doggie treat while on vacation or something?"

"Dog jokes never get old with you, do they?" Derek retorted slipping back into their old routine. It was familiar, normal for the pair, but again the werewolf felt that Stiles was just going through the motions, forcing himself to be Mr. Sarcasm and Wit.

It pained Derek to admit it, but he and Stiles had a couple things in common, and a big one was the fact that they hid behind masks. Derek's being anger, and Stiles', naturally, being humor. But now it seemed Stiles' masks had officially become huge, prison sized walls, and it again made Derek want to know what had happened in the months he had been gone.

"Is your dad okay?"

"He's fine, Derek," Stiles answered softly, his eyes trained on the windshield. "It took him a while to wrap his head around the whole 'the supernatural exists' thing, but now he and Argent are bros. In fact, they and Deaton play poker every Friday. And I suspect there might be something going on between Mrs. McCall and my father, but I can't prove it.

"What about you and Cora? Did you figure out where she's been for the past six years? Did you have that heart-to-heart you obviously need? Was it very After School Special? And did you guys decide what to do about Peter? Because he's been unnaturally quiet for a while, and Scott doesn't like it, but we can't exactly do anything about him until he makes a move."

"Cora and I are fine," Derek responded slowly, green eyes flicking back to the window again. Things weren't magically better between the two siblings, but they were getting there. "She was overseas," he continued slowly, calmly, "living with a pack. She'd come back because she heard I was alive, and the Alphas grabbed her before she could find me.

"As for Peter…" They hadn't exactly talked about their uncle; other than the whole 'he killed Laura, maybe we should kill him' debate; unsurprisingly Cora wanted him dead, but Derek figured they just might need him (and, yes, he was just as surprised as she had been when he said that). "I'll deal with Peter."

"So, that means you're back for good?" Stiles glanced over at Derek, eyebrows raised slightly, but otherwise his face was unreadable. His emotions, too weighed down by the Adderall, caffeine, and the mysterious darkness, were also hard to gage leaving Derek frustrated. There used to be a time when the former alpha could read Stiles better than anyone (or almost anyone; Isaac was actually fairly easy to read, too).

"Looks like it."

"Welcome home," Stiles stated drily and the jeep fell silent again.

**TW**

"We left it pretty much the same," Stiles said when he opened the door to Derek's loft. "Lydia did buy a few new things for it, and Isaac and Scott fixed the leak in the bathroom, but otherwise it's still your depressing Batcave."

Derek looked around the familiar space. The couch was the same, along with his bed, but the desk now held a computer, there was a flat screen sitting in front of the worn couch, and the books Derek left behind now sat on a bookshelf straight out of the IKEA catalog. The place also smelled strongly of pack, but curiously enough Stiles' scent overrode the others'.

"Yeah, I bought the bookshelf," Stiles stated rubbing the back of his neck, shuffling his feet. "I figured, why leave your books scattered. Plus, I added a lot of my own." A shot of embarrassment soared through the younger guy as he quickly crossed the room, grabbing a hoodie off the desk chair. "I may spend more time here than anywhere else."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Stiles admitted fiddling with his hoodie, avoiding eye contact. "Look," he continued quickly, after a short pause, looking up from the shirt, "we can clear all this crap out if you…"

"It's fine," Derek replied tossing his bag onto his couch. "I'm sure I can work around it." Plus, he would hate to listen to Lydia rant and rave about him rejecting all of her 'gifts.' "It feels very… homey, I guess."

"Homey? Yeah." Stiles nodded absentmindedly, moving to sit on the edge of Derek's bed. "Scott and Isaac have been treating this place kinda like a clubhouse. Lydia has made it her own personal mission to make it less dank and dark. Ethan and Danny are helping her. Aidan… well, he won't step foot in here. And Allison… well, she's here when she needs to be, but otherwise she avoids the place."

"And you…?"

"I just sit here sometimes," Stiles stated fiddling with his hoodie again. "Mostly I read, do homework. I sent a few emails to Cora from that computer…" This was news to Derek. "Her replies were always vague. She hardly mentioned you at all."

"Funny, she didn't mention you once," Derek commented perching on the edge of his couch's arm. Stiles shrugged noncommittally, unfazed by Derek's admission, his attention back on his hoodie.

"I haven't been sleeping," the teen confessed after a very lengthy pause. "I don't think any of us have been, but, you know, I haven't exactly had a good night's sleep since Scott became a werewolf, so I'm not exactly surprised." He chuckled once, humorlessly, and continued, "Not even sure why I'm telling you this. We haven't talked in two months, you didn't even have the decency to say good-bye to me, but I guess since you're here…"

"Stiles, what happened?" Worry shot through Derek's stomach, leaving him a little queasy as he watched the teen wrap his hoodie sleeve around his hand and let it go over and over again.

"Did Scott tell you what happened? What we had to do in order to find the location to the Nemeton?" Mutely, Derek shook his head. "We had to sacrifice ourselves and the price was this constant darkness here." He gestured to his chest, his hand hovering over his heart. "And it unleashed this signal that pretty much says 'All supernatural creatures welcome. Bring cake.' Though, they aren't exactly fulfilling that request. They bring death and destruction instead."

Derek felt bile rise up in his throat. Stiles had died in order to find his father. Stiles had died so the Nemeton could have its sacrifices. Stiles' death resulted in an array of magical, potentially dangerous creatures coming to Beacon Hills in flocks. "Why the fuck didn't anyone call me?" Derek demanded his voice practically a growl.

"Hey, I suggested it, dude," Stiles stated briefly looking up, "but Scott was adamant about _not_ getting you involved. Something about you needing time with your sister or whatever, and I get it, seriously I do, you haven't seen her in six years, but we could have really used your help." He itched at his eyes tiredly, blinking rapidly, fighting a yawn. "But whatever man, we handled it. And now you're back, so I guess that's a win."

The room fell into a heavy, tense silence. Derek mulled over the information that had just been hurtled at him while Stiles fiddled with his hoodie. At the time, leaving had seemed like something he _had_ to do, almost as important as breathing, but now he wasn't so sure. He also wondered why Cora never told him Stiles emailed him.

"I told her not to," Stiles muttered startling Derek.

"What?" he glanced over at the younger guy.

"The emails to Cora. I told her not to tell you. I'm surprised she actually listened to me." His phone suddenly chimed, and Stiles pulled it from his pocket. "It's my dad," he explained checking the screen. "I need to go." He stood, clutching his hoodie tightly in his hands. "Uh, expect the pack over tomorrow. Scott's into this whole 'debriefing' thing, so that's probably going to happen."

"Alright," Derek replied nodding. A part of him didn't want Stiles to go, still wanted answers, while another, much stronger part, just wanted the kid to get some sleep.

"See you tomorrow," the teen stated with a weird, head jerk. He then walked out of the loft, sliding the huge door behind him, and leaving Derek sitting in the dark, quiet room that reeked of teenagers.


	3. Chapter Two

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed, alerted, and favorited last chapter.**

**Thanks for reading, leave me a comment if you can, and I do not own anyone.**

**See ya!**

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The door slid open at exactly one-thirty. Derek, who had been dozing lightly on the couch, sprang awake at the sudden noise. He froze, watching closely as a gangly shadow closed the door and moved lithely across the room. Sleep fogged Derek's brain, but he was awake enough to recognize the scent.

He figured the teen forgot he was back, it having only been maybe two hours since his return, so Derek didn't exactly fault Isaac for not recognizing him. Though, the fact that he didn't smell Derek made the former alpha worry just a little bit.

"I was just getting my school books," Isaac said suddenly, and Derek's worry evaporated. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's fine," Derek replied clearing his throat, sitting up. He reached over, snapping on one of the two lamps Lydia had gotten, a soft, yellow glow illuminating the loft. Isaac stood in the middle of the room, looking anywhere but at Derek, his hands buried deep in his pockets. Uncertainty and guilt poured off the teen in waves, his bottom lip was tucked between his teeth.

"Look…" Isaac started softly.

"I deserved it," Derek interrupted catching Isaac by surprise. The teen looked up, his blue eyes locking on Derek's green ones, a confused look on his face. "I was a shitty alpha, I'll be the first to admit it, and I treated you and…" he trailed off, swallowing heavily, looking away from his former beta. It still hurt, several months later, to bring up Boyd and Erica, but by the look on Isaac's face, the teen knew exactly who Derek was referring to, and for that he was grateful. "I'm sorry."

"But I really shouldn't have said it."

"No, you really should have. I needed to hear it, and you definitely needed to get it out. Cora was dying, and I… I felt helpless, and I was probably going to give up." Derek looked up again, eyes locking on Isaac's face, and continued, "Thank you." Those two words took Isaac by surprise, and he took a step back, eyes wide.

"I'm… uh, y-you're welcome," the younger beta stammered, wetting his lips. "A-are you feeling alright?"

Derek's lip quirked upward and he shook his head. "I'm fine," he answered honestly. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Isaac replied softly, crossing his arms. "I'm just fine. Still, you know, living with the McCalls, except it's been a little awkward with Scott's dad around and Melissa dating the sheriff. But, it's great! Really. Not that, you know, living here wasn't great…"

"I made you sleep on the floor half the time," Derek pointed out feeling a little guilty about that. He had a perfectly good couch Isaac could have crashed on, had, in fact, found the beta passed out on it a few times, he didn't know why he was such a dick about this place when he and Isaac moved in.

"Okay, so living here could have been better, but, you know, you were an okay parent… most of the time. You kept me fed, gave me a curfew (sometimes), and you know, didn't…" he trailed off, blue eyes locking on the floor, a sudden rush of fear and anger pouring from the teen.

"It could have been worse," Isaac stated after pushing his emotions down, finally meeting Derek's eyes again. Mutely Derek nodded, keeping his face blank while on the inside he felt anger furl up at the thought of Isaac's father hurting the teen. "But Melissa is great," Isaac continued contentment replacing his anger and fear, a small smile crossing his lips. "She likes to complain that me and Scott are driving her crazy, but I can tell she doesn't mean it.

"And now that I have…" he trailed off, awkwardness joining his contentment, followed by a sudden rush of lust and some heavy lust. Isaac cleared his throat, trying and failing to shake the emotions away and quickly asked, "So, where have you been?"

"All over," Derek replied after a pause, figuring he didn't need to know about Isaac's potential sex life. "Cora and I spent some time in the east, lived with a pack up in Canada for a few months, and tried to stay out of the cities."

"So, are you, you know, back for good?" Isaac's face was perfectly crafted into curiosity, but Derek could feel the uncertainty pouring off the teen, with just a smidgeon of hopefulness hidden beneath the surface.

"Barring anything happening to Cora I am," Derek responded nodding. "She's still traveling, seems to have developed an affinity for it, and I left her with my car, so…" he trailed off, shrugging.

"Good." Isaac nodded, still uncertain about Derek's return, but still a little happy to see him back. "And I'm glad Cora is okay." Another silence fell over the room, this far less uncomfortable. Isaac finally nodded towards his books and said, "I need to get back before Melissa realizes I'm gone."

"Okay." Once Isaac had collected his stuff, he gave one more, awkward wave Derek's way before heading out the door closing it behind him. It had actually been nice, catching up with Isaac. As guilty as he had been kicking Isaac out, and doing it in the way he did, Derek was glad Isaac actually found a family; even if it wasn't very conventional.

**TW**

After awaking from yet another nightmare, face smashed into his pillow to keep from screaming, Stiles figured it was time to get up. He rolled over, checking his clock, snorting at the time. Two hours of sleep had to be better than nothing.

He untangled himself from his blankets, leaving them in a heap on the floor, and stood up. His room was practically spotless, almost bare, most of his things having long since been transferred to the loft. Stiles couldn't exactly explain why he spent so much time there, but it had become his sanctuary. He wished he were there right now.

He crossed his room, the darkness making itself known, his chest tight and a shiver roaming down his spine. Sometimes he thought he heard this faint whispering coming from the back of his head, but he could never, quite make out the words. Of course, he wasn't entirely convinced the whispering actually existed. It could just be his body telling him what he already knew; he was crazy.

Stiles randomly grabbed some clothes and left his room, heading across the hall to the bathroom. He flipped the light on, crossing the room to shut the toilet lid, setting his clothes on top. He peeled his shirt off, stopping in front of the medicine cabinet. He glanced at himself in the mirror, his hand resting against his heart. It thumped back normally.

He studied his face. There were dark circles under his eyes, his face was gaunt, and he knew that if he got some sleep, any sleep, he'd probably look less corpse-like. But his dad had been on him about coming home lately, wanting to know where he was, needing to know Stiles was okay. Besides, even if his dad wasn't making him come home every night, Derek was back.

Derek's return was an entirely different can of worms Stiles was not even remotely ready to open. Hell, he hadn't even begun looking for the can opener. He would try to put it off for as long as possible, but he knew eventually he'd have to face it. He hated eventually-s. With a sigh, he looked away from the mirror.

After a quick shower, he toweled off and got dressed, shoving his pajamas in the hamper. He headed out of the bathroom, padding barefoot across the wooden floor and down the stairs. Moving into the kitchen, he immediately put on a pot of coffee, grabbing his Adderall out of the cabinet above the sink.

He shook out two pills, thought about it, shook out two more, and replaced the bottle. He set the pills on the counter, filled a glass full of water, and took all four separately, draining the last bit of water when his medication had been consumed.

Stiles thought about making something to eat, but his appetite had been pretty much nil for a while, so he decided against it, dragging his Star Trek coffee mug down from the cabinet, pouring himself a cup from the half-full percolator. Before the Nemeton, he had actually liked a lot of cream and sugar in his coffee, now he drank it black. In a way, it felt fitting; bitter and dark like his corrupted soul.

He was halfway through his third cup, Adderall and coffee making him jittery and hyperaware, when he heard his dad descending the stairs. Stiles drained the last dregs from his mug, set the cup in the sink, and slinked into the living room. Strictly speaking, he wasn't allowed anymore coffee, his father concerned that he had been drinking too much lately. It seemed both Stilinski men were sneaking things that weren't particularly good for their health.

Stiles sat on the edge of the couch, left leg bouncing, fingers tapping against his knees. He would turn the television on, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sit long enough to watch it. He heard his dad moving around the kitchen, sighing when he, no doubt, spotted the half-empty coffee pot.

Jumping up, really not needing to get into with his dad this early in the morning, Stiles quickly headed towards the door, grabbing his jacket on the way, and closing the door behind him. November in California wasn't cold, per se, but it wasn't exactly eighty degrees either, and he could feel the cold against his bare feet as he hurried towards his jeep, only to remember he didn't have his keys.

He glanced over his shoulder, at the house, wondering if he could sneak back in without being detected. It wasn't likely, his father was almost as perceptive as a werewolf, so with a muttered, "Fuck it," Stiles forgone getting his shoes, pulled his jacket on, and began walking towards the only place he really wanted to be; Derek's presence be damned.


End file.
